Alien Nightmare
by 80sarcades
Summary: Once upon a time, a group of Heroes unknowingly saved the planet Earth from an alien invasion...
1. Chapter 1

_**Alien Nightmare**_  
_**by 80sarcades**_

* * *

_Welcome! This tale, unlike my other stories, has a sci-fi twist:  
__What if Colonel Hogan __and company were kidnapped by aliens...and somehow  
wound up saving the Planet Earth from an alien invasion?_

_Moreover, what if they never realized it?_

_Back in the 1940's both Allied and Axis aircrews reported  
seeing strange brightly lit objects that would sometimes fly in formation  
with their planes; the objects were dubbed 'foo-fighters' (UFOs). Even today  
no one knows what they really were. One moment they were there; the  
next they were gone to parts unknown._

_Perhaps - just perhaps - the foo-fighters contained aliens that were curious about our  
world. And sometimes, just by chance, they took souvenirs..._

* * *

In the darkness, Colonel Hogan smiled.

Granted, it wasn't totally dark; the shielded headlamps of the truck, plus the dim light from the dash, reflected a soft glow onto his cheerful face. Sergeant Schultz, their Luftwaffe guard, bounced heavily in the passenger seat while the rest of Hogan's men - Carter, LeBeau, Newkirk, and Kinch - rode in the covered bed.

Even so, he couldn't help but grin: _another mission accomplished! _If everything went well, the explosives they had set at the munitions plant would go off in about thirty minutes. Plenty of time, of course, to get back to camp after their successful search for Stalag 13's latest 'escaped' prisoner, Corporal LeBeau.

_Hope Hochstetter didn't have any plans for tonight_, he thought amusedly. He glanced over towards Schultz; the overweight Sergeant of the Guard would occasionally doze off before snapping awake.

_It's way past his bedtime_. He nodded knowingly as the outline of a familiar picket fence flashed into view before disappearing into the blackness.

_Only five minutes to camp_. He looked down at the gas gauge; the needle flickered just underneath a quarter of a tank.

_Good thing we're not going to run out of gas,_ he thought as he eyed his ever-alert guard. Another memory popped into mind; this time, he almost laughed. _Won't work this time. Schultz isn't Mary Allen, this isn't my Nash, and I'm not into overweight guards!_

With nothing else to do, he cocked a curious ear to listen to his men. Unlike their guard, they were a bit more active.

"Boy, it sure is a pretty night!" Carter's eager voice sounded out. "You know, I remember sitting out on Saturday nights and watching the stars. Sometimes, I'd see a meteor shower, too; now that was fun!"

"Carter," Newkirk's dry Cockney accent spoke up, "wasn't there anything else you could be doing on a Saturday night?"

The American Sergeant looked at the Englishman curiously before his face brightened. "Well, sometimes we'd play games, too-"

"I don't think those are the kinds of games he's talking about," Kinch's somber voice broke in.

"What...oh!" Carter's expression turned from one of confusion to understanding. "Well...maybe _that_, too," he shyly remarked. In the darkness the others could almost _hear_ him blush. "Not that we would actually do that!"

"What else would you do?" Newkirk asked idly. "Lot better than looking at the stars at any rate."

"I agree." LeBeau's voice said, his French accent clearly discernible over the roar of the truck's engine. "The nights are meant for love. Stargazing!" He made a derogatory sound before his eyes turned wistful. "A walk along the shore with a woman at your arm...a romantic dinner for two..."

"Dinner would be good right about now, you know," the Englishman grumbled. He then leaned over and banged on Schultz's seat; the guard suddenly jolted awake. "Oi, Schultz," he yelled out. "Any way we could get breakfast in bed?"

Schultz shook his head in resignation before settling back down in his seat. "Jolly Joker," he mumbled in annoyance, his eyelids already drooping again.

"Well, it was just a suggestion," Newkirk replied cheekily, teasing his favorite guard. "Can't blame a bloke for trying, you know..."

Hogan grinned once more before he turned his attention back to the road. As he did so, he noticed a white light in the distance.

_What is that? _he wondered. _If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was an airplane._ He cocked his head for a moment while he studied the object. _Can't be,_ he judged. _Even the Krauts aren't that crazy to fly that low at night. Besides which, the nearest airfield is back near Hammelburg._

As he watched, the light visibly moved from place to place; it almost seemed to be _searching_ for something. _No,_ he judged firmly. _Definitely not a plane. It can't be one of the tower searchlights either; you don't see those until you get near the camp._

_So what the hell is it?_

"Colonel Hogan, what is that?" Schultz asked, his senses snapping to full attention.

"Not sure," the American officer replied distractedly even as he kept his eyes on the luminescent orb. "It could be-"

He never had the chance to finish the sentence.

At that moment the light seemed to almost _swoop_ downward to the ground before growing larger in size. In horror, Hogan realized it was moving towards them at an almost impossible speed. There was no time to turn off-

_Oh, God!_

Without thinking, the Colonel raised his right hand upward to shield his eyes as the sheer brilliance of the white light threatened to overwhelm his senses.

_And for a moment, his very soul was numbed with bonechilling cold-_

Then, it - _whatever it was _- was gone. The darkness of night suddenly closed in on a shaken Hogan as he somehow brought the truck to a shuddering halt.

"Everyone all right?" he called out, trying to keep his voice level.

"We're alright, Colonel," Kinch replied after a moment. A chorus of mixed voices joined in agreement before the deep voice continued. "I'm not so sure about my pants, though-"

"What-what-what was that?" the Luftwaffe Sergeant finally blubbered, fear welling up in his terrified eyes.

Colonel Hogan shook his head before he forced his trembling hands - unseen in the dim light by the others - to stop shaking. "I don't know, Schultz," he lamely offered. "But I think we better get back to camp."

_If we don't run into the light again,_ he added silently. He started the truck and pulled out onto the main road; the rest of the short trip passed in silence.

* * *

Hogan was unpleasantly surprised to see Major Wolfgang Hochstetter waiting on the front porch of the Kommandantur when they pulled into camp.

_Does he know...no,_ Hogan immediately decided. _Otherwise he'd have a battalion of troops here tearing the place apart. Except for the Kommandant, he's alone._ At that moment two black-uniformed SS guards appeared on the porch behind the German officers. A sudden pool of ice formed in the American's stomach as he quickly looked around once more.

_I still don't see anyone else; there would be trucks here. __So, back to the original question: what does he want? _

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" Hochstetter nasally screamed even before the truck ground to a squealing halt. He leaped down the wooden steps and almost flew to the vehicle on a wave of barely suppressed rage.

"Yes, where have you been?" Colonel Klink repeated, looking stern behind his monocle as he tried to catch up to the other officer. His leather-gloved finger wagged up and down accusingly towards the Senior Prisoner of War. "We expected you back-"

The Gestapo Major stared at him in annoyance, his narrowed eyes cutting into Klink's own. "Let me do the interrogating Herr Komm-an-dant," he growled, enunciating the last three syllables; the Luftwaffe Colonel suddenly wilted underneath his steely gaze and fell silent.

"Well, Sergeant Schultz?" Hochstetter snarled, "where were you all this time? Out for a bit of fun, perhaps?"

The Senior POW looked at the German curiously. _What is going on?_

"W-W-We were out recapturing a dangerous prisoner, Major!" Schultz blurted in fear.

"Dangerous?" another voice, this one with a French accent, silently hissed. "Let's see if I make you any more strudel-"

"BAH!" the Gestapo officer roared. "You were involved in the sabotage of the munitions factory just outside of Hammelburg! All of you are under arrest!" With that, he pulled out his pistol and aimed it at the American Colonel.

Hogan merely looked at his nemesis impassively while the occupants of the truck went deathly still. Behind his poker face, his mind seethed with questions:

_Did one of the bombs go off early? Did Hochstetter make a lucky guess?_ he wondered furiously. _Or did one of the other groups sabotage the plant without telling us?_

"Now hold on, Major," the Army Air Forces Colonel said calmly, if not flippantly. "Schultz called the Kommandant from the Hofbrau not ten minutes ago. Before that we were looking for LeBeau; Schultz was with us the entire time."

"That's true, Herr Major!" the Sergeant said, his voice more sure this time. "I was with them myself!"

"Then explain," Hochstetter said, his voice sounding both reasonable and irritable at the same time, "why it took over three hours for you to return to the camp from the Hofbrau." His voice took on a victorious leer. "You can explain that, ja?"

_Three hours? Who are you kidding?_

Hogan, surprised, narrowed his eyes at the Gestapo officer. "That's impossible!" he scoffed, looking at his own watch. "It's..."

He frowned, then tapped his finger on the crystal. The second hand wasn't moving; if he didn't know better he'd swear the watch was frozen. "Seems to be broken, Major," he said nonchalantly. "I've got 8:35 on mine."

Hochstetter's eyes gleamed triumphantly as he held up his own watch; Hogan stared in disbelief at the stark reality of the Major's timepiece: 11:42.

_That's impossible! _his stunned mind reasoned. _I know when we left, down to the minute! How did we lose three hours? _Another thought, as absurd as it sounded, suddenly occurred to him:

_The white light..._

"Perhaps you would care to come up with a better story," Major Hochstetter threw out, his voice almost smiling with glee. "Perhaps you were kidnapped by little green men from Mars? Or, perhaps, you were out blowing up things you shouldn't."

"Little green men," Schultz chuckled, a thin smile on his jovial face. "How silly..." His voice suddenly trailed off as Hochstetter's murderous glare pierced his now-frightened eyes. After a moment, the Gestapo major waved a gloved hand towards the two SS guards.

"Arrest them all," he coldly ordered.

* * *

_Next: Interrogations._

_Thanks for reading!_


	2. Interrogations

_**Alien Nightmare**_  
_**by 80sarcades**_

* * *

_Welcome back! A big **Thank You** for all those who read and/or reviewed the last chapter; very much appreciated!_

_Except for the epilogue, this is the last chapter that takes place on Earth. The next two (I think) chapters take place from the alien POV as they try to figure out their horrifying discovery..._

* * *

To his credit, Kommandant Klink refused to let Major Hochstetter take his prisoners out of Luftwaffe custody. Instead, he placed a call to General Burkhalter; his aide-de-camp said the senior officer would return the call 'momentarily.' That had been thirty minutes ago.

In the meantime Hochstetter saw no reason to wait in questioning his suspects. He isolated the four enlisted men in the cooler before taking his prize catch and his guard to Klink's office. Schultz, unsurprisingly, denied any knowledge of sabotage; he repeatedly swore that the prisoners had never been out of his sight. He also had no credible explanation for the missing three hours. However, much to Hogan's surprise, Schultz failed to mention seeing the strange ball of light. Moreover, it also seemed as if he were trying to avoid any questions that would force him to answer truthfully in that area. The American officer was impressed.

_He suspects - or rather, knows - that we're not going to volunteer any information. That would open up a real can of worms then; there would be more questions than answers. _Despite the situation, he inwardly smiled.

_Sometimes I think our Sergeant of the Guard is a lot smarter than he lets on_.

Meanwhile, the Senior Prisoner of War had his own set of questions.

_If this is a trick, then they're pulling out all the stops,_ he finally decided. He glanced at the clock on the far wall; the solemn hands revealed 12:37._ I could see Hochstetter trying something like this to trip us up. Klink, on the other hand, is something else; he couldn't play a hand of poker without giving everything away. He actually believes we were late. More than three hours late!_

_Better yet: if this is some kind of ruse, then why call Burkhalter? I'm willing to bet that he won't find it funny at all. Which leads me to another question: did that white light do something to us? Earlier, Hochstetter made a joke about us being kidnapped by aliens. Personally, I thought he was trying to develop a sense of humor. Then again, I'm running out of answers to explain the three missing hours._

_What if..._

"Colonel Hogan," Major Hochstetter interrupted, his nasal tone full of icy menace. "Perhaps you'd like to tell us your version of events..."

As he expected, Hogan gave nothing away. Despite that knowledge, Hochstetter was very nearly ready to tear his hair out in frustration. With supreme effort, he genially smiled towards the American officer before trying a different tack.

"Colonel Hogan," he began, his light tone almost casual, "perhaps we can have a pleasant chat. Between friends, no?" A dark chuckle escaped his throat as he looked towards the seemingly helpless prisoner. "We can talk about many things. Your life here, for example. Your nighttime activities. Things of that nature."

The Senior POW cocked his head. "And if I refuse?"

"Then I'm afraid one of your men will suffer an _accident_ on the way out of the cooler," Hochstetter's icy voice replied. A cold rictus of evil split the Gestapo officer's lips in a terrifying grin. "How serious, of course, is up to you."

Klink jumped out of his chair. "I won't allow that!" he firmly said much to Hogan's relief. "The Luftwaffe-"

"-needs to control its prisoners!" Hochstetter finished, eyes flaring. "And if it means mistreating your precious inmates, then so be it!"

"That's against the Geneva Convention!" the American Colonel protested before turning his outraged eyes toward the camp commander. "Kommandant, I request protection for my men!"

"Hogan," Klink said, "your request is-"

"Denied!" Hochstetter roared.

"Denied!" Klink lamely repeated, sinking down into his wooden chair even as the Gestapo Major banged his fist against the desktop.

"Enough of your lies, Hogan!" he screamed. "Give me the answers I want, or your men will pay the price! Their blood will be on your hands, Hogan; make your decision NOW!"

For a moment, silence reigned in the small office as the two men fought a heated war with their narrowed eyes. Finally, the American officer sighed in despair before he lowered his defeated gaze to the wooden desk. "I'll tell you anything you want to know about what I do at night," he softly whispered, shaking his head. "Just don't hurt my men."

"Of course," the Major quickly said, smiling broadly in victory even before he turned to the Kommandant. "Klink, a piece of paper. And a pen."

He quickly grabbed the proffered items from the Kommandant's hands and laid them on a nearby table.

"Now then, Hogan," his gracious voice sounded, "I want you to write down everything." An oily smile traced his lips as Hogan moved a nearby chair to the table before sitting down. His hesitant eyes then looked towards the Gestapo officer.

"Everything?" his tired, yet hopeful, voice asked.

"Everything," Major Hochstetter repeated calmly. "Your _cooperation_," he said, emphasizing the last word, "determines the degree of mercy we will show your men. You are an officer, after all; your responsibility is to them, is it not?"

Hogan nodded reluctantly. With another sigh, he picked up the pen and started to write. Hochstetter, meanwhile, moved over to the Kommandant's desk.

"You see, Klink," his smug voice lectured, "this proves the superiority of the German mind. Eventually, those of inferior quality will surrender...

Hochstetter's voice droned on accompanied by the sounds of scratching from Hogan's pen. Fifteen minutes later, he laid the writing instrument down.

"Finished," he called out softly before his face turned apologetic. "That's just a partial list..."

"Finally!" Hochstetter crowed, snatching the flat sheet from the American Colonel's hand. "Now we will crush your pathetic resistance..."

The Major's voice trailed off as he stared incredulously at the paper in his hand. Finally, he found his voice; his eyes stared accusingly into those of the now-grinning Senior POW.

"This," he said accusingly, "is a list of women!"

"And?" Hogan's teasing voice asked.

"I wanted a list of your crimes!" the Major flared.

"Oh, that," Hogan calmly said. "You said you wanted a list of my nighttime activities. That's my first three months in England." He grinned rakishly. "Of course, if you want the rest of my time there - or back in the States - I'll need a lot more paper."

"But..." The German officer looked at the list once more before doing some mental arithmetic. "That's at least one...sometimes two! In a night! Impossible!"

Hogan merely shrugged. "I had to have something to do after work," he dryly grinned before he looked at the paper in Hochstetter's hand. "Can I have that back?" he asked. "I'd hate for that to get out-"

Hochstetter wadded up the list and threw it at the American Colonel. "Keep your list, Hogan," he flared angrily. "When I'm done with you, women will be nothing more than a dream-"

The shrill bell of the telephone broke the Major's rant in mid-step. Both men watched as the Kommandant picked up the black handset.

"Colonel Klink speaking, Stalag 13" he began; his face suddenly broke into a cheerful grin. "Ah, General Burkhalter," he crooned. "How nice for you to call-"

His next words were broken off as an angry noise buzzed into his ear.

"Yes, sir," his now-subdued voice whined into the transmitter. "I understand. Shut up, Klink. Yes, sir..."

Hochstetter rolled his eyes in annoyance before Klink continued his conversation. "General, Major Hochstetter is here, and-"

Another stream of annoyed words assaulted Klink's ear for a long moment. With a quick motion Klink then extended the receiver out towards the Major. "He wants to speak to you," he said lamely.

Hochstetter took the handset. "Ah, General," he snarled warmly. "Major Hochstetter. General, we have a situation..." He briefly outlined the events of the night. "With your permission," he continued, "I want to take Colonel Hogan and his men in for extensive questioning..."

He frowned. "No, General, there is no evidence they set the bombs that destroyed the munitions plant. However, we have eyewitness testimony that a handmade device was seen attached to a pylon in one of the storage areas; the citizen that found it stated the lettering on the timer was in English..."

Hogan winced, though he was careful to let nothing show. _We're getting sloppy, _he thought. _Either that, or we need new timers!_

"...no, the citizen raised the alarm and evacuated the plant before the bomb - bombs - went off. He spoke to us afterwards-" He listened to the voice on the other end of the line; as he did so, his face began to turn a light shade of red. "No, the prisoners were guarded by Sergeant Schultz; he claims they never left his sight-"

More buzzing. Hochstetter's face darkened in anger even as his wrathful eyes met Colonel Hogan's. In response, the American officer merely grinned.

"...no, it's not, General," the German said, finally losing what little control he had over his temper. "I know Colonel Hogan is responsible for this act of sabotage-"

An indistinct howl of rage emanated from the bakelite receiver. Hochstetter paled as he listened to the tempest on the other end of the line before the connection abruptly clicked off. With effort, he looked up at the two men.

"You are free to go, Hogan," he spat. "Get out! The both of you!"

"But this is my office, Major Hochstetter..." Klink whined. The Major leveled a malevolent glare of terror onto the shivering Kommandant.

"Keep your office, Klink!" the Gestapo officer yelled. "And keep your prisoners in camp where they belong!"

"Nice to see you again, Major," Hogan said cheerfully. "Next time, let us know you're coming; we'll have refreshments-"

"BAH!" Hochstetter roared, spraying spittle across the desk. With a snarling scream, he tore out of the office and slammed the door with a thundering _crash_. Moments later, the sound of a car engine penetrated the thin walls before the Gestapo Major and his guards quickly departed the camp. Colonel Hogan looked at Kommandant Klink before giving him a knowing wink.

"We really need to set him up on a date," Hogan casually commented. "You wouldn't happen to know anyone, would you sir?"

"Hooogan..." Klink said warningly, pumping his fist in the air. The Colonel shrugged.

"It was just a thought."

The Kommandant glanced at the door. "Schultz!" he yelled. After a moment, the Sergeant of the Guard poked his head into the office.

"Yes, Herr Kommandant?"

"Escort Colonel Hogan back to the barracks," the Luftwaffe officer ordered tiredly. The American officer cast a judicious eye upon the other Colonel.

"And my men?" Hogan asked.

The German waved a hand. "Take them with you," he muttered. "Get out!"

Just before the two men left, Hogan stopped and turned around. He grabbed the doorframe with his right hand and swung back into the office; the camp Kommandant looked at him curiously.

"We really should do this again, Kommandant," the younger officer said. "Next time, I'll spring for the hot dogs; you can bring the beer-"

"OOOOOOOOUT!" Klink roared, pointing a trembling hand toward the door.

* * *

"Hey, Schultz? You have the time?"

The Sergeant of the Guard shook his head. "Sorry, Colonel Hogan," he said, his weary voice apologetic. "My watch is broken." His tone then dropped down to a pleading whisper. "Is it really true?" he asked. "I saw the clock in the office, but how..." He let the rest of the question trail off.

Hogan shook his head. "I just don't know, Schultz." As they reached the cooler, another thought struck him. "What time does your watch have, anyway?"

The Sergeant paused momentarily underneath an overhead light to check his timepiece. "A little after 8:30," he announced. He shook the watch several times in a vain effort to make it work again. With a frown, he put it away in a side pocket before reaching for his keys.

The Colonel nodded, unsurprised. "Thanks," he said simply. A few minutes later the now-released prisoners were on the way back to their barracks.

"How'd Hochstetter get here so quick, Colonel?" Kinch asked. "And what's the deal with our watches? They're not working." He held up his right wrist even as French, English, and American accents chorused in agreement.

The Colonel shook his head again. _How do you explain this?_ he wondered.

_Even better: does it have an explanation?_

The American officer waved a hand toward Barracks Two. "Inside," he ordered.

Once in the barracks, he brought them up to speed on what had happened in Klink's office. For good measure he threw in Schultz's broken watch; like Hogan, the men were stunned into silence to learn that it was now the wee hours of the morning.

"Just doesn't seem possible," Newkirk muttered in disbelief, his Cockney voice breaking the quiet stillness. "How can a bloody light make us lose three hours?"

Hogan shook his head. For once, he didn't have an answer.

* * *

Meanwhile, Major Hochstetter thought he had his own set of answers. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do about it.

He cursed Burkhalter, Hogan, Klink, and everyone within reach of his tormented thoughts while driving back to his quarters. Once inside, he quickly placed a phone call to headquarters to check for further developments in the sabotage case. To his less-than-great surprise there were no further leads; the trail had seemingly gone cold.

With a growl, Hochstetter shucked off his heavy uniform tunic before throwing it on a nearby chair. His tired mind examined the case once more while he got ready for bed; all of the roads, he sourly noted, led back to the American officer. No one else could have done it.

_There is always tomorrow_, he reflected hopefully. _With luck, we'll find something. And then I will finally crush Hogan once and for all!_

With that cheerful thought, he crawled beneath the soft sheets of his bed. As he did so, another thought from earlier came to mind:

_Kidnapped by aliens from Mars,_ he thought amusedly even as he closed his drooping eyelids. _Ridiculous!_

_As if there were such a thing..._

Within minutes, Major Hochstetter began to snore loudly. By morning he would forget the strange idea; other duties would press upon his mind. He would also be unaware that he was at least partially _right_.

However, they weren't from Mars.

* * *

_Next: Abraxi Matriarchate. The aliens make their report._

_Poor Hochstetter! Always a day late and a Reichsmark short, isn't he? As to Hogan's list...I would imagine that he never lacked for dance partners;-) I just can't see him sitting around his quarters (or anywhere else) reading manuals all night..._

_In this story the Heroes all have watches of some kind. In reality, they were usually one of the first items seized if you became a POW; this was particularly true for prisoners taken by Japanese or Russian forces during World War 2. You can also assume that the guys were isolated in one of the cooler cells that didn't have an access point to the tunnels; therefore, they had no idea what time it was (much less what was really going on.)_

_Thanks for reading!_


	3. Abraxi Matriarchate

_**Alien Nightmare**_  
_**by 80sarcades**_

* * *

_Welcome back! This chapter begins the alien POV chapters. Originally I had only planned to have two more chapters plus the epilogue. However, I broke off this part to make things easier on me since I have a head cold:-(_

_Have a nice day!_

* * *

**Rigel Corolois, Orion Constellation  
Home System, Abraxi Matriarchate  
537 light years from Earth  
12 days later**

Like many star systems, the inhabitants of Abraxi Prime saw themselves as the center of the universe. However, unlike their brethren, they had the means - and especially the _will_ - to back up their particular beliefs. The blue-green centerpoint of the Abraxi Matriarchate oversaw a empire of more than six hundred worlds and client races; their Starfleet, powerful and deadly, roamed the vast expanses of the cosmos.

Given these facts, it was understandable that the citizens of the empire viewed themselves as superior, if not untouchable. After all, what was out there for them to fear?

In both cases, they were wrong.

A ripple of slivery light heralded the arrival of a sleek blue and silver starcraft as it slipped out of hyperspace and into the star system. Strangely, the arrowhead shaped ship ignored the designated traffic patterns for inbound craft and instead continued on an elliptical course that would take it towards Abraxi Prime. This unusual action did not go unnoticed.

A warning chime sounded in the office of the system port director. Startled, she threw a narrow glance toward the offending alarm.

_What now?_

With a sigh, she put her datapad aside before her gnarled finger tapped a button on her console.

"Speak," she ordered.

A technician's voice, tinged with panic, filled her four ears. "Director, we have a survey ship approaching Abraxi Prime at high speed," she reported. "Estimated time of arrival in fifteen metrons."

Oddly, instead of being annoyed the director was amused. Even intrigued, to say the least. _A survey ship? Here?_ she curiously wondered. _You rarely see those anymore, at least not in the Core Worlds..._

She looked over the lip of her elevated workstation and eyed the green-scaled technician with a pointed glare before her long talon stabbed another touchpad. This time, the holographic image of a Class-III long range survey ship shimmered in the air above her console. For a long moment she tried to make sense of the contradictory information contained in the ship's mission brief.

_That ship is supposed to be exploring the uncharted worlds right now!_ she realized. _Instead, it's here!_

_What in the name of B'elanna's Seven of Nine Hells is going on?_

"Open a channel to that ship," she immediately commanded. "And find out-"

"Signal coming in, Director," the technician from earlier interrupted. "Veej Survey Master J'nar, sending," Without another word she transferred the comlink to the port director's station. With a snort, the director fixed her red eyes on the holopad again before opening the link. A moment later the image of a blue and green male hovered above her desk.

"Survey Master," her stern voice boomed firmly, "explain your actions."

"Port Director," the Survey Master responded hurriedly, "I request immediate landing clearance for Abraxi Prime. I also require an audience before the High Council on a matter of supreme importance."

The director resisted to urge to roll her eyestalks in annoyance. _And that's all?_ she inwardly snarled. _What about an audience with Her Majesty as well? I'm sure she has time for you!_

She leaned forward until her long scaly nose almost touched the hologram. "Explain why, and quickly," she snapped, "or the only thing entering the atmosphere will be pieces of your ship!"

Undaunted, the Survey Master shook his head. "Not on an open channel," he replied, his tone unduly calm. "Only in person." The director softly growled.

_Just who do you think you are? _her irritated mind retorted. _Really!_ _The arrogance of some males! As if a mere surveyor has anything of interest beyond maps and odd trinkets!_

"Denied," she said flatly. For a moment, she savored the look of utter frustration in the male's eyes._ That should teach him!_ "Change course immediately and hold position at the outer system markers until cleared!"

_And if I have my way, you'll be out there until the suns go nova!_

"Director," the Survey Master immediately blurted. For the first time, the male - _J'nar, wasn't it?_ - seemed to be irritated. Almost angry.

_Good, _she thought, inwardly pleased. _Now I won't feel so bad about blasting you and your pathetic ship to atoms!_

"Check your codes," J'nar suddenly hissed. "_Check your codes!_"

Almost reflexively, she flicked her attention over to the right section of the holo. As she watched, a new string of letters rose up in mid-air before her curious eyes. At that moment, understanding dawned; a strangled _gasp_ escaped her suddenly dry throat before her startled gaze returned to the main hologram. A confirming nod from the survey master was all she needed.

Without another word, she severed the connection with the survey ship before her clawed fingers almost smashed another button out of existence.

"All technicians!" her now-amplified voice boomed; multiple heads turned towards her station. "There is a survey ship on approach to Abraxi Prime," she quickly informed them. "Clear all inbound and outbound traffic at once, both civilian _and_ military! All of them!"

In response, various sets of red eyes blinked in confusion. The director's anger finally boiled over.

"NOW!" she screamed; with a start, the heads hurriedly swiveled around before the buzz of voices ordering ships to new courses filled the room. Meanwhile, the port director's eyes searched out another target.

"And you!" she barked, "TK-421!"

The technician that had originally informed her of the survey ship now turned fearfully in her seat. "Yes, Director?" she said, her tone low if not respectful.

"Inform the survey ship they have permission to land at the council chambers," she ordered. "Notify upon arrival." The director straightened up in her seat. "I'll inform the council."

To her credit, TK-421 didn't flinch; instead she nodded briefly before hurriedly relaying the order. _What's the rush?_ she wondered._ It's not as if the worlds will end..._

The port director, meanwhile, rekeyed the holographic code with a trembling finger and stared at it with disbelieving eyes once more. Despite herself, she was unable to stop the shiver of fear that coursed down her double spines:

_Code 187,_ the electronic figures glowed. _Immediate and deadly threat to the survival of the Matriarchate..._

* * *

_Next: The Council, Part 1_

_TK-421 was the name of the hapless Stormtrooper schmuck from Star Wars (Episode IV). He was the one guarding the Millennium Falcon after it was captured by the Death Star...right before he 'donated' his uniform to Han Solo. Or was it Luke Skywalker?;-)_

_As always, thanks for reading!_


	4. The Council, Part One

_**Alien Nightmare**_  
_**by 80sarcades**_

* * *

_Welcome back!_

_The alien report begins. Keep in mind that these aliens have never seen humans before. Some of their reactions, as well as their questions, may seem a bit odd._

_Have a great day!_

* * *

Survey Master J'nar bowed his head as the seven members of the High Council filed into the room. As they wordlessly took their seats, some of the councilors stared at the new arrival with unabashed curiosity. The emergency summons to form the council had been clear enough; however, none of the leaders - much less the token male councilor - had any idea as to _why_ the meeting had been called.

Once settled, the Leader of the Council laid a petulant eye on the petitioner. "Veej Survey Master J'nar," she formally intoned. "What business do you have for this body?"

"Leader V'nir," J'nar said, bowing again in respect. "As you know, I am the commander of the Survey Ship _Alstaca_. Our primary mission is to scout the uncharted worlds for compatible lifeforms-"

"Yes, we know all that!" another female council member snapped. "Why are you here?" Left unspoken was the unasked question: _why are you wasting our time?_

"Because of what we discovered on one of the uncharted worlds," the surveyor smoothly responded. "If I may?..." When no response was forthcoming, he continued his speech.

"As I was saying, our mission was to find compatible lifeforms for the Matriarchate. The reports at your stations detail our findings to this point. So far, we have found six worlds with potential client races." J'nar didn't need to mention what they really were: _potential slaves_.

He didn't have to.

"And the seventh world?..." the leader prompted.

"An obscure body known as Earth, in the Gua Tason region of space," J'nar explained. "It occupies an relatively isolated system with seven other planets, none of which are inhabited. The natives of Earth refer to themselves as humans, as you can see here."

A life-size holographic display suddenly _popped_ into existence before the council table. The images of two unconscious humans - one wearing a red head covering; the other with bare legs - hung in the still air. As the figures slowly turned, the members examined the new lifeforms in curiosity.

"They're so...pink," the lone male on the body quietly observed. "Fragile." Beside him, another councilor cocked her eyestalks at an angle.

"Which one is the female?" she questioned.

"This one," J'nar said, highlighting the requested figure.

"I see," she replied indifferently before pointing a finger to the upper body. "And what are those things on her chest?"

"We're not sure, Councilor," the Survey Master admitted. "As I will explain, we've had limited contact with these creatures. They may be some sort of mammary glands for their young. Alternatively, they may be an extra food storage system of some type. The females we examined had them in some type of cloth container fastened around the upper torso."

"Much as this is interesting, it distracts us from the real purpose of this meeting," the leader dryly noted, interrupting the explanation. "Continue your report, Survey Master."

J'nar nodded. "My apologies, Leader," he said formally. "As I was saying, the planet Earth occupies the third planet in the system. It is a Class-Two world; they are advanced enough to invent air-driven flying machines as well as utilize radio waves. By Matriarchate standards, hopelessly backward."

"Yet enough to pose a threat to us," the leader observed. "How?"

"I'm getting to that, Leader," the surveyor apologetically intoned once more. "A probe first detected their wavelength signals some five of their years ago. Unfortunately, their technology has not advanced enough for visual transmissions..."

The High Leader of the Council inwardly sighed in frustration. _Veej_, she thought. _Highly methodical. And also slow, which is why we conquered them in the first place!_ Instead of releasing her growing rage she sat patiently and waited for the report to turn interesting.

"...currently, most of the various nation-states that occupy the northern hemispheres are at war with each other." The surveyor paused for a moment before bringing up a holographic globe of Earth. "As per protocol, we first selected a group of females for study."

J'nar enlarged one section of the global map before illuminating one of the land masses. "These creatures were located here, in a nation-state known as the United States of America," he explained. "We transported them off their moving conveyance - I believe the natives call it a train - for examination in the ship's laboratory." Another holo - this one of three human females - quickly replaced the map; the council members studied the electronic images for a long moment.

"They seem resilient," a female councilor's voice murmured quietly as she quickly scanned that section of the report. J'nar nodded.

"Although delicate, the human system is very responsive; they have potential uses in industrial applications, for instance. They also have a greater tolerance for heat and cold than most inhabitants of the Core Systems." J'Nar's green and yellow eyes narrowed in disgust as he glanced at the hologram once more. "These particular creatures also seemed to be entertainers of a sort."

"Entertainers?" the leader queried.

"These creatures call themselves the Andrews Sisters. A group of singers," the surveyor explained. "We transcribed one of their pieces of music off of a primitive recording medium...a record, I believe. May I play it?"

With silence as assent, J'nar raised his touchpad. "The song is called 'Bei Mir Bist Du Schöen," he announced, his tongue stumbling over the unfamiliar words. With a knowing grimace, he touched the lighted square.

Instantly, the sounds of band music and light female voices echoed throughout the large chamber. All of the leaders, save for the surveyor, vainly attempted to cover their ears even as pain-filled grimaces filled their rough faces. "OFF! OFF!" the leader shouted; J'nar quickly complied, sending the room into silence.

"Horrible!" a councilor complained. "Only savages could think that such music qualifies as entertainment!"

The leader shook her head to clear her ears. "Barbaric!" she hissed. "Never in the known systems have I heard such filth!" The head female's smile then turned feral. "I will enjoy eradicating every last one of these filthy creatures!"

"Unfortunately, that may not be possible," the surveyor's calm voice broke in. "And given what transpired later, I would very much like to do so." The last statement raised the intense curiosity of the assembled members; the leader impatiently waved a finger for him to continue.

"We placed these females in temporary stasis while we moved to the second target continent," he went on. "This time, we chose another warring nation-state called Germany. As per procedure we chose a group of males for study. Our surprise, however, came from the samples we collected."

"Another group of _entertainers_?" a sarcastic voice chimed in. J'nar briefly smiled.

"No, councilor," the surveyor replied. "However the six males we retrieved, save for one, were not natives of Germany." He brought up a holo image of the males in question; the various members eyed them with detached interest.

"Where were they from?" the leader of the council asked.

"At first, we were puzzled by the discrepancy," the Survey Master reported. "Then we realized that there was a nearby containment facility for war prisoners. We reviewed our observation records and confirmed that these males, or at least individuals wearing their cloth coverings, were from that same place. Two of them, in fact, were from nearby warring nation-states; the other three were from the same nation-state as the females."

"Interesting," one of the members voiced. "A rare opportunity to study the various natives with little effort on our part."

"Quite," J'nar agreed. "As you would expect, there were the obvious differences between these males and the females from earlier." He smiled as if to an unheard joke. "Oddly, we were amused by some of these; the females, for example, painted their faces with colored lotions. They also showed their lower limbs while the males kept theirs covered."

"How strange," a councilor piped in. "A puzzle for anthropology. And the males?"

"We utilized the mind-scanner on each one." For the first time, the surveyor looked slightly embarrassed. "Four of these prisoners were thinking of various females of some sort; the shortest of these, mentally and repeatedly, vocalized the name 'Marya' over and over. The fifth one thought about some kind of grey long eared creature while the last dreamed of various food products."

"Females and food," a councilor sneered. "Just what you expect from males!" Insulted, the lone male member eyed his peer for a moment but demurely said nothing. The leader, meanwhile, threw a narrow glare towards the offending councilor before returning her attention to the surveyor.

"What did you find out about these males?" she asked pointedly.

"Like their counterparts, they are also suited for a number of applications. Given their physiology they could have been of wide service to the Matriarchate..."

All of the female council members quickly noted the past tense. Before they could question it, another voice piped up.

"Excuse me, please," the male councilor softly interrupted. He rose and pointed a slender finger toward the nearby hologram. "Which one of these was the guardian of the prisoners?"

"This one," the Survey Master replied, indicating the large blue-covered human. The questioner looked at him incredulously.

"One male, to guard other males?" he queried, stepping around the table to examine the image more closely. "How far along is he in his life cycle?"

"Compared to the other males?" J'nar shrugged. "We estimate he is at least twenty Earth years – some ten cycles, in our terms - older than the oldest male prisoner." He illuminated a figure wearing a brown head covering.

"Where did you find them?" the councilor pressed. The female members looked on, their curiosity now aroused.

The surveyor's green antennae twitched slightly. "In a conveyance returning to the prisoner holding area," he replied. "One male - the leader of the prisoners, a Colonel Hogan - directed the vehicle while the others were in the rear. The native of Germany was occupying the front section when he was collected."

The male councilor cocked his scaly head. "An odd place to guard such sinister looking - and much younger - males." All of the female members of the council nodded in agreement.

"True," the Survey Master acknowledged as he evenly met the gaze of the council member. "Even his primitive weapon – a chemical propellant rod – was inert; the metal cartridges that fueled it were in his cloth pocket." J'nar took a deep breath before releasing it in one shuddering _rush_. "Yet of all of the humans in the conveyance he proved to be the most dangerous one of all."

* * *

_Next: The Council, Part 2_

_A/N: 'Bei Mir Bist Du Schöen' is one of my favorite Andrews Sisters songs right after 'Bounce Me Brother with a Solid Four.' Obviously, these aliens have no taste in quality music:-)_

_The 'grey long eared creature' Carter was thinking about was Binky, a plastic-explosive rabbit from 'Silent Explosions.'_

_As you might have noticed, this is a female-dominated alien society. I'm a science-fiction fan; I grew up watching Star Trek/Gate/Wars and everything in between, including the sometimes great (and occasionally awful) 1950's films such as The 27th Day and Earth vs. the Flying Saucers. Not to mention the classic The Day the Earth Stood Still._

_However, all the bad guys are just that...bad guys. Plus, the aliens look something/kinda/sorta like us. Romulans, Goa'uld, Centauri...the list goes on (I'm not sure about the Shadows from Babylon 5, though:-) I was taught a long time ago that it was dangerous to make assumptions about the other guy or gal. Besides, who knows what aliens are out there, anyway? So I mixed it up and made an agressive female race. One that, if there is a real counterpart, I hope never pays us a visit..._

_Thanks for reading!_


	5. The Council, Part Two

_**Alien Nightmare**_  
_**by 80sarcades**_

* * *

_Welcome! The report continues. My apologies for the late post; AT&T's wonderful U-verse decided to cut out on me for a while:-(_

_Caution: This chapter may or may not contain humor. As a precaution, please refrain from drinking/eating until after reading the author's notes. Your computer will thank you!_

* * *

The council leader's snort of derision echoed throughout the chamber.

"That?" she scoffed, pointing a talon at the overweight Sergeant. "Preposterous! What would he do if they escaped? Roll after them?" The other members of the council laughed heartily before J'nar cleared his double throats.

"Under any other circumstances you would be right, High Leader," he said calmly. "However, I stand by my earlier statement."

The Leader of the Council glared sternly at the Veej; to her surprise, the male surveyor refused to cower beneath her steely gaze. She gave a small nod of respect for his bravery before motioning for him to continue.

"As you know, protocol also required direct examination of the cloths the humans wore." With a smooth motion, J'nar keyed the hologram to show a collection of shiny objects. "The females wore these various adornments either on their cloths or other portions of the body," he explained. "In addition, they also each carried a small bag containing various facial powder coverings. The males, on the other hand, carried several items in their own cloths. More so than one would expect from prisoners."

He tapped another lighted pad; the electronic image quickly changed to an eclectic group of ragged belongings. "A religious text," he said quietly. "An ingredient list for some type of food. Personal communications. Images of family. Nothing special, that is, at least until we examined the guardian."

J'nar's facial expression, until now solemn, turned morbidly somber as the obese human reappeared on the holo. "I regret to report," his sad voice rumbled, "the death of Medical Officer D'san. She died almost instantly while studying this particular creature."

A sharp intake of collective breath reverberated around the room; the members looked at each other in surprise.

"Assistant medical officer K'Lar, who was assisting her, was also afflicted," the surveyor continued. "Fortunately, we were able to put her into a stasis tube. However, given her condition…" With a shake of his head, J'Nar let the words drift off into unspoken finality.

After a moment, the stunned yet rational voice of the leader spoke up. "What exactly happened to them, Survey Master?" she asked.

With effort, J'nar composed himself before carrying on. "They found this object in the guardian's cloths," he replied. Once more the display changed; the councilors stared at the display in stupefaction.

"By the Goddess herself!" one of the members breathed, her voice full of both wonder and revulsion. "Is that the actual size?"

"No." The Survey Master quickly shrunk the image down to the original dimensions as various eyes widened in horror. "As you can see, it can be easily carried almost anywhere. Size in this case makes little difference; in any form it is quite lethal."

"And these humans possess it…" the Leader said, her voice trailing off in stunned realization. "How did the doctor die?"

J'nar evenly met her worried gaze. "The vapors from the object inhibited a key neurotransmitter in her higher lobes," he explained. "In essence, the nerve impulses controlling breathing and movement were paralyzed. Her death was agonizing, yet quick." A video holo quickly replaced the offending object; the members of the council watched as the doctor opened the innocent looking item. Within seconds, her body convulsed in obvious agony before it slumped to the metal deckplate. Her assistant, standing nearby, fared little better; her form had only just begun to spasm before she and her superior disappeared in a flash of light.

"I was on the command deck," the surveyor ruefully murmured. "Fortunately, we were able to transport them to stasis pods before instituting quarantine procedures." He bowed his head in sadness. "By the time we were able to help the Senior Medical Officer it was far too late."

"And the humans?" the head of the council questioned.

"Unaffected," J'nar spat, his calm composure giving way to hot anger. "We theorize – and it is only a _theory_ at this point – that the object has no effect on humans once in their sleep cycle. We are not sure." The surveyor paused momentarily, his hands trembling in visible rage before he was able to control himself. "At this point there was a vigorous debate as to our next actions," he reluctantly admitted. "The original protocol, as you may be aware, was to select one member of each sex for vivisection before returning the rest to their various locales."

An image of a human male wearing a blue head covering and a female with dark hair suddenly hovered in mid-air. "Some of the crew, ah, wished to _expand_ the procedure to include the rest of the humans," he explained. "In any event, I judged it too dangerous to have any of the aliens on board. We quickly returned both groups to their native habitats before departing for Abraxi Prime." J'Nar paused once more. "I deeply regret the loss of Doctor D'san," he said, his words laced with sorrowful emotion.

"We mourn her passing," the Leader intoned. "Her service to the Matriarchate is recognized." With that, she bowed her head in momentary prayer; the other council members quickly followed suit.

"Where is the object now?" she finally asked, looking up.

"As soon as we entered the system, I dispatched it in a shuttlecraft to the research moon at Penthesilea." A quiet tap from J'nar's finger brought a holo of the offending object into view once more before he continued. "Even at that I am reluctant to have it near any inhabited world, much less any of the Core Worlds."

The chamber was silent for a moment.

One of the councilors shook her head in disbelief. "It's hard to believe that something that small could be the death of us all." She peered at the item keenly as if trying to decipher its terrible secrets. "And if it were released…"

"…the destruction would be beyond our worst nightmare for any of the known worlds or beyond," J'nar finished reluctantly. "We estimate a 92.8% mortality rate at minimum if the object is converted to an aerosol form and sprayed within a planetary atmosphere. Those who survive may be little more than paralyzed husks at best."

"Goddess!" several shocked voices overlapped. At the same time, a reflexive shudder cascaded through the members of the frightened council. Oddly, the leader's face then turned thoughtful.

"And our enemies?" she asked, referring to their ongoing war against the Slluslan. The Survey Master held up his hands in apology.

"They would be affected as well, though by how much I cannot say," his now-small voice said. "Their biologic profiles suggest a similar fate. To be certain, direct testing is needed." He swallowed heavily before continuing. "As much as it pains me to say it, I recommend that the Earth system be quarantined until such time as the Council advises otherwise."

"Nonsense!" a female voice boomed. "Send a warship to bombard this Earth with atomics and be done with it!"

"As much as I would tend to agree with you, councilor, I would advise against taking such action," the Survey Master cautioned. "We may need more samples of this unknown object in order to refine its potency against our enemies. Then, too, is the human factor; the inhabitants of Earth may have some natural immunity against the object's effects, or at least a viable antidote. For all we know, the item is addictive to their physiology; that may be how the guardian was able to control them." He held up his hands as if in defeat. "We simply have no idea."

The council head silently looked at the other members before making her decision. "Very well, then," she declared. "I move to quarantine this Earth system. Any and all records on this system will be purged except for those held by the High Council. All in favor?" she asked, her firm gaze sweeping the curved table.

One by one, the members gave their willing - and in some cases, reluctant - assent.

"Then let it be done," the leader commanded. "I will advise Her Majesty on this development." Her eyes then traveled to their guest. "Survey Master J'nar!" her sharp tone rang out.

"Yes, Leader," the surveyor replied, bowing his head respectfully.

"You, personally, will ensure that the records of this incident are removed from your computer systems and a copy delivered to the High Council," she ordered. "All those with direct knowledge are to be sworn to secrecy upon pain of death." To her surprise, the male quickly held up a data crystal.

"I anticipated your order, Leader," he intoned, his voice gravely formal. "These are the only copies of the records I have shown you. As to the other, I will convey your will."

A flicker of delight danced in the leader's eyes. _Finally_! she thought. A_t least some good came out of this unholy mess!_ She resolved to keep an eye on this male; he may prove to be of use in the future. However, there were other pressing matters to attend to.

"How isolated is this system?" she asked.

"In terms of distance and location, remote enough," the surveyor replied. "It lies in a sparsely populated region of space. Although possible, I highly doubt that any of the mining companies will make use of the system; it would be too unprofitable for them to do so."

"Good," she declared. "So much the better." She was about to carry on her thoughts when another voice interrupted.

"In all this confusion, I'm curious," a councilor asked. "Do you know what _it_ is called? It feels strange, referring to something so deadly as 'an object.'

"We don't know its true name," J'Nar admitted, his ears turning blue in embarrassment. "Given what happened, we were unable to use the mind-scanner on the war prisoners. Our only clue comes from the object itself." He reinserted the data crystal and brought the strange item into view once more. "As you can see, the white waxen container that held it is devoid of words. However, this word repeatedly appears on the upper surface."

He magnified the rectangular item as the members of the council watched intently.

"We do not know the proper name for this 'Hershey's'," the Survey Master continued. "We only know that it is the most dangerous substance known to sentient life. Although it now resides in a Class Four biolab – the most stringent hazardous containment system known to the Matriarchate – I shudder to think what would happen if this _thing_," he spat, eyeing the dark-colored bar, "were ever released to an unsuspecting galaxy. The consequences are too horrible to contemplate."

"A perfect weapon, this Hershey's" the female who had advocated bombarding Earth said quietly. "By comparison, it makes our fusion weapons look like mere toys."

"The ultimate weapon of mass destruction, in our hands," another stated, her low tones vibrating with fear. "We must find an antidote, and quickly. If it were used against us…"

The disquieting if not sober thought caused many members of the council to suddenly feel ill, including the leader. With effort, she raised her voice.

"This meeting," she declared weakly, "is adjourned."

* * *

_Next: Epilogue_

_A/N: The irony: an advanced civilization that can be decimated by harmless chocolate:-)_

_(Originally, my tagline was going to be: 'The ultimate irony: a Female-led civilization that can be decimated by chocolate.' However, I thought that might be going a bit too far and offend someone somewhere; in theory, women and chocolate are a stereotype. However, in RL both my wife and daughter crave chocolate at times; so do my workwives. And I've made more than one late-night trip to the store to pick up a sweet or two::grin::)_

_Penthesilea was a Queen of the Amazons in Greek mythology._

_Strange, isn't it: Hogan (presumably) gives Schultz a bar of the good stuff; the Sergeant winds up inadvertently saving Earth. A real (German) Hero! And just in time for Chocolate - I mean, Valentine's - day too!_

_Thanks for reading!_


	6. Epilogue

**_Alien Nightmare  
by 80sarcades_**

* * *

_The epilogue. Have a nice day!_

* * *

**May 13th, 1945  
London, England**

_Life is funny, isn't it?_

For a moment, the man amused himself by tipping his glass back and forth. The amber liquid inside sloshed against the clear walls; he wondered just how easy it would be to _drown_ in it.

To forget.

_I'm going home._

He remembered when those very words would have filled him with joy; the one time he had been ordered home - _was it only two years ago? _- he could have sworn he could fly.

_I'm going home,_ he repeated. _And for some reason, I don't want to._

_How's that for irony?_

Major General Robert Hogan downed the rest of his drink before setting the used glass aside. He then flicked his weary eyes toward a nearby window. To his surprise, the street that lay beyond was drenched in cheerful sunshine; the rain that had been a part of London's atmosphere for the last few days was now gone.

_There's another bit of irony,_ he noted sarcastically. _The first week I was here it rained. Now that I'm leaving it turns perfect!_

_I wonder what Carter is doing right now?_ he wondered. An image of the happy-go-lucky Sergeant popped into memory; he smiled slightly. _He'll make a great pharmacist someday,_ Hogan thought, thinking of the former prisoner's postwar ambition. _That is, if he doesn't blow someone up!_

A dry chuckle escaped the former Senior POW's lips before his mind moved onward. _Kinch is probably still enjoying his leave._ A glimmer of hope suddenly dawned in his thoughts. _Maybe he'll take me up on my offer; it'd be nice to have him around again. Jobs back home are going to be hard to come by now that the war's over. And I really don't want to see someone that smart go to waste._

_LeBeau, on the other hand, already knows what he wants to do: open his own restaurant. _Hogan smiled once more; this time the gesture was less forced. _He could make anything look good. Considering the crap the Krauts passed off as food - and I'm not so sure it was food, sometimes - that was a hell of a challenge! Thank God he was there. Especially for that last winter; he could really make those Red Cross packages last..._

_And then, there's Newkirk_. A worried expression suddenly entered the General's eyes as he thought of the talented con artist. The former Corporal now held two jobs as a barkeep and entertainer. As far as Hogan could tell, he seemed to be doing fine in both endeavors. However, the American officer knew that it wouldn't take too much nudging for him to return to his prewar career path.

_Please, God,_ he prayed. _Look after Peter and make sure he does all right_. Hogan let out a slow, almost raspy breath. _And for everyone else too. Lord knows, we all need a little help._

Hogan was suddenly jolted from his melancholy thoughts as a stranger bumped into him. "Excuse me," the man apologized before looking up. "I—" A sudden flash of recognition brightened his lined face. "Robert Hogan," the stranger breathed. "God. Last I heard you were in a prison camp."

The General blinked several times as he tried to recall the man's name. _That's Buddy Carmichael,_ he thought lamely. _Someone else I haven't seen in a long time._

"I was," he said, extending his hand after a moment's pause. "Stalag 13. Good to see you, Buddy." A silver star on the man's left shoulder glistened dully as he sat down on a nearby barstool; Hogan quirked a eyebrow in surprise. "They finally made you a General," he observed before shaking his head. "Can't believe this was the same guy they almost threw out of the Point for having more demerits than Ulysses S. Grant."

"Probably the only way I'd get famous, anyway," General Carmichael quipped before his expression turned serious. "You doing all right?" he asked. Hogan noted the genuine concern in his friend's eyes and immediately bit back the sarcastic retort that came to his tongue.

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'm okay. Just tired, that's all." He smiled, the gesture not quite touching his eyes. "I'm going home tomorrow."

General Carmichael snorted. "Lucky you," he said. "I'm going to some flyspeck of an island named Tinian, in the Pacific. Unfortunately for me, I'm flying the other way. The long way," he added dryly before throwing a grin in the other man's direction. "Maybe the war will be over before I get there."

Hogan merely smiled. _My war is over_, he thought. _No more Kommandants to deal with, Majors to be annoyed by, or tunnels to go through. No more having to worry about my men going outside the wire._

A sudden pang of sadness tore at the General's heart. _I miss them. All of them. Kinda hard not to, with how long I've known them._

"I'll send you a postcard from Miami Beach," Hogan joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Let you know how short the swimsuits are this year." A cocky grin then appeared on his now-cheerful face. "Maybe I'll even send pictures—"

"You're okay, all right," Carmichael grumbled sourly. "Now that's a lousy way to kick a man when he's down."

The General grinned broadly. "What are friends for?" he cheekily asked.

_And thanks for being nice, too,_ Hogan thought gratefully; he didn't need any more looks of pity from those who thought he was just another returned POW. _Maybe one day I'll tell you about my second career. But not today._

"Well, I'd better be going," General Carmichael said before he stood up. "The Army might be transferring me out, but paperwork waits for no man." He smiled warmly as he shook Hogan's hand once more. "I dont know about you, but I'm looking forward to when this whole shebang is over. It'd be nice to command something without having to worry about casualties." He started to walk away, then paused; an odd look flittered across his features for a long moment before he glanced at his colleague. "This sure was one hell of a strange war, wasn't it?" he calmly, if not sadly, observed. Without waiting for an answer he turned and started to make his way toward the front exit.

Hogan eyed the departing General with a jaundiced eye. _You're right about that,_ he decided. _In more ways than one_. In his mind's eye he recalled the strange light that he and his men had encountered back in 1943. Outside of his men and Schultz, no one else knew about it. Even now it seemed fantastic. A Flash Gordon fantasy dreamed up by idle prisoners of war.

As far as his men were concerned, the odd light was just that: a light. Something to tell the grandchildren about. General Hogan knew better. Even more, he would have cheerfully traded what he remembered for their ignorance; to forget…

_…waking up in a sterile gray room, unable to move a muscle save for his eyes. Somehow, he was able to push away the surging panic that threatened to overwhelm his senses and instead concentrated on the decidedly antiseptic environment. Suddenly, odd chittering noises came from somewhere to his left. With supreme effort he managed to inch his head in that direction._

_Immediately, he wished he hadn't._

_Two _things_ – he would have almost described them as lizards, except these were at least five feet tall – stood over a table containing an unconscious Sergeant Schultz. They seemed to be playing with the buttons on his greatcoat; as he watched, long and slender claws carefully undid the top two buttons of the jacket. As they did so, the Colonel's eyes flicked around; his men, seemingly unconscious, lay on nearby tables. Beyond the lizard people were more tables containing several women. For some odd reason, the only one he could clearly see looked familiar somehow._

_Suddenly, a sharp sound repeatedly filled the alien air. One of the creatures turned toward his table and studied something for a moment before walking towards him. The other thing, whatever it was, took no notice as it finished undoing the blue uniform. _

_Frantically, as the creature came closer, Hogan tried to move. However, despite his best efforts, he remained totally paralyzed. Helpless, all he could really do was to watch the red-eyed thing approach his frozen body. As the lizard raised the sharp claws on its right hand, the Colonel silently screamed—_

With a start, General Hogan jerked himself back to reality. His hands shook slightly; a film of perspiration covered his brow. Quickly, he wiped the evidence away as his heart rate returned to normal. I_t's 1945_, he told himself. _It's over_.

But it would never be over. At least, not in his dreams. None of his men knew about it, and it would stay that way. Hogan had had the occasional nightmare - and sometimes, a flashback - since late 1944; he supposed, for lack of a better explanation, that the antiseptic smell from his hospital visit had triggered the unpleasant memory.

General Hogan eyed the front exit; for a moment, he thought of his friend and of his departing words.

_This sure was one hell of a strange war, wasn't it?_ He snorted in dark amusement.

_Buddy, you really have no idea._

_[fin/ende]_

* * *

_A/N_: _Originally, I was going to end this here...but leaving Hogan in pain just doesn't seem right. Besides, I'd rather not have ColHogan beat me up:-) ::hears the sound of knuckles cracking in the distance:: At any rate, I had an idea for a Hogan-centric story (with a spot of Kinch) involving the aliens and 1947 Roswell; would anyone like to see a sequel?_

_Thanks for reading!_


End file.
